


show me your teeth

by skeletalparade (boythighs)



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Werewolves, hell yeah, laurent is a hunter, like blink and you miss it, vague teen wolf au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-14 23:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16050749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boythighs/pseuds/skeletalparade
Summary: It's always fun to watch Damen lose what little control he has, unraveling like loose string on old fabric. Pinpricks of claws against the soft skin of Laurent’s waist where Damen’s fingers have shifted beneath his shirt, the press of fangs jutting out behind the curl of his upper lip. Laurent’s smirk is self-satisfied in the dark.“You tell me, Damianos:didI miss you?”





	show me your teeth

**Author's Note:**

> it's halloween time, and i love teen wolf (even in the year 2018), and damen needs to be a werewolf in every fic ever. plus, like, star-crossed lovers, am i right?

“We have _got_ to stop meeting like this.”

Flushed and breathless, Damen’s throat flutters powerfully against the tip of Laurent’s blade, and he’s almost impressed – _almost_ – that Damen had evaded most of his traps and managed to get this far into the woods undetected by Laurent or the others. It’s just them in the clearing though, miraculously, Damen dangling upside down from the rope snared around his ankles, steady, attached to a firm tree branch, the infuriating glow of his grin glinting straight moonlight.

If it were anyone else, Laurent would not hesitate to attack and disarm them, but it’s Damen. Damen of the Akielos pack, seventeen, and Laurent’s _ex_ -boyfriend, now, though they both have a hard time keeping that in mind when Laurent is sneaking Damen in through his window for every late-night rendezvous they share. _This_ isn’t one of those, not intentionally anyway. The blonde sighs and flicks the knife closed, sliding it back into his left boot with fluid movements. Practiced.

“We’ve got to stop meeting _period._ ” The words seem to fall flat when they both know it’s unlikely, nigh impossible. “What are you doing out here?”

Laurent’s frown is matched by Damen’s persistent, unfaltering grin, though he does have the decency to turn a little shy at the question.

“Hoping to run into you.” He says, not minding Laurent’s exasperated sigh in the slightest. What he fails to understand is that while _Laurent_ is charmed, bewitched, entranced by him, the rest of the de Vere family is very determinedly _not._ They know what Damen is, and he might be too young for them to kill – per The Code – but he is not too young for them to _hurt._

“You are going to get yourself gunned down, you absolute idiot.” An exaggeration though it may be, Laurent’s arms cross in a fit of defiance. He makes no move to cut Damen down, glare sharper than any of the knives in his, quite frankly, _massive_ collection. “My dad and brother are out tonight, too. What would you have done if one of _them_ had showed up instead of me?”

Damen at least has enough wits about him to look marginally less pleased with himself at that, lips pursed in thought as he weighs the question in his mind. Answering isn’t really necessary, of course – if it had been his dad or Auguste, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to plead his case. They wouldn’t have known it was Damen in the dark, they would have just shot him. Thinking about it sends a pang rattling around inside Laurent’s chest, and he sighs again, shoving down the rough onslaught of emotions that threaten to give way to smothering anxiety.

“I should leave you hanging here for being so stupid.” Even as he’s speaking, Damen is proving that he doesn’t need Laurent to cut him down, anyway; he rocks himself, small movements at first, until, in a show of flexibility that leaves Laurent breathless, it’s enough for him to send his upper half up towards the rope, which he severs with his claws. Unsurprisingly, he lands on his feet when he falls, werewolf reflexes making escape an obnoxiously easy feat.

He crowds into Laurent’s space and Laurent doesn’t bother putting up a show of fighting him. He doesn’t really want to, a feeling of melancholy tonight that he refuses to fight. Rough hands, sans claws now, come up to cradle his face tenderly as Damen bends his neck to close the space separating their mouths, a soft, barely-there brush of lips, pleased when he is met with no resistance.

“Can you blame me for missing you?” Damen whispers against him, kissing him again before Laurent can get a word in edgewise. Laurent’s arms are still crossed, but his shoulders are sagging inward, the gravitational pull of Damen’s body forever drawing him back in. “Did you miss _me?”_

“I saw you in class today.” Laurent mumbles, giving in to his body’s desire to wrap his arms around Damen’s waist. School is the _only_ place they’re allowed to see each other these days, after the ordeal with his uncle in the fall, the truth that he had burned down the Akielos family home years ago, leaving no one but Damen and his oldest brother as lone survivors of the fire that had claimed everything they’d ever known and loved. The exposure of their lycanthropy to the de Vere family had disturbed the small bubble of happiness Laurent and Damen had crafted for themselves, and now they’re left trying to find the remnants of peace wherever they can.

Including, it would appear, the woods in the middle of a Friday night while Laurent, Auguste, and their father are on a compulsory surveillance.

“That totally doesn’t count.” Damen hums as he leans back in to capture Laurent’s mouth, not just some semblance of a kiss anymore – a real one, fiery and passionate the same as everything Damen does, his hands wrapping around the knobs of Laurent’s hips to tug him in flush. Laurent, on the other hand, kisses like he fights: dirty, aggressive, relentless, until Damen is panting heavily into his mouth and Laurent can feel the beginnings of his erection pressed firmly against him.

It's always fun to watch Damen lose what little control he has, unraveling like loose string on old fabric. Pinpricks of claws against the soft skin of Laurent’s waist where Damen’s fingers have shifted beneath his shirt, the press of fangs jutting out behind the curl of his upper lip. Laurent’s smirk is self-satisfied in the dark.

“You tell me, Damianos: _did_ I miss you?”

Damen’s response is the low growl that builds in his chest and erupts as he claims Laurent’s mouth in another frenzied, restless kiss, backing Laurent up until his body makes contact with the nearest tree. The bark presses painfully into his skin, shirt hitched up as Damen holds him inflexibly in place. The hunter parts his lips and lets Damen take his mouth as consolation, fists his own hands into the dark mop of curls on Damen’s head, human nails dragging over his scalp as Damen detaches their mouths in a string of spit that snaps as he ducks to suck a painful, violent mark at the base of Laurent’s neck.

God, he hopes it’s low enough for a shirt to cover. It’s not quite cold enough for a scarf, yet.

The sharp points of his fangs grind flames of pleasure up the tendon of Laurent’s neck, and he shudders. A move like that is intentionally playing dirty. Damen knows how sickeningly fascinated Laurent is with his fangs, the horrific irony in the hunter being enamored by very overt werewolf features not going amiss on either of them.

Damen drags his teeth back down and bites – hard – a little lower than the hickey, and Laurent’s voice shatters on a helpless moan as they sink into his flesh. For a brilliant moment, reflexive anxiety surges from deep within, but it’s there and gone, because despite what his father, mother, and brother all say, Laurent knows that Damen would never hurt him. He isn’t like the other wolves. Damen is unlike _anyone_ Laurent has ever known.

He is loving, kind, loyal to a fault, stupidly so. Laurent tells him that it will be his downfall, the trust he so blindly places in anyone willing to be receptive of it, but Damen only ever shrugs and claims that he can’t help it. The fact of honest loyalty comes so naturally to him that it blindsides Laurent every time he sees it displayed, especially when it comes to actions dealing with himself. No one has ever been as patient with Laurent, with the issues he has with himself, and sometimes he is grateful that Damianos is trusting enough for them both.

Laurent has thought about what he feels for Damen at great length, this anomaly of a youth with the curse of the bite, but he chokes himself on the ferocity of it, unwilling to acknowledge the fluttering bundle of butterfly shaped monstrosities within his stomach that light themselves up at the considerations of something as foolishly gentle as _love._ It is something to continue fighting himself over some other time.

As it is, Laurent has one hand grappling at the bark behind him and the other holding Damen’s head in place while he bites all over Laurent’s collarbones, what he can reach of his chest. That’s when the branch snaps underfoot somewhere a little ways off. They both still, Laurent’s blood running cold before he is shoving Damen back and off of him, righting his clothes and combing his fingers through his hair to make sure he doesn’t look exactly like he was being ravished in the woods by his very secret, very much not permitted werewolf boyfriend.

The timing is more than a little inconvenient, really. They were just beginning to get to the good stuff.

“Laurent?” It’s Auguste, much too close for comfort. Damen looks at Laurent, face stricken with the panic Laurent feels must be mirrored in his own expression. He presses his index finger to his mouth urgently, begging for Damen to just keep quiet as Laurent clears his throat. It would be just his luck if he sounded husky enough, aroused enough, for his brother to take notice and seek him out more quickly, armed with a barrage of questions that will lead assuredly to their downfall.

His brother is extremely understanding and supportive of Laurent, but _this_ is something he will not hesitate to run back to their father about. After shooting Damen, probably in the leg. Several times. For Laurent’s “safety.”

“I’m here!” He calls back, cringing as his voice cracks, just a little. Laurent shoves Damen behind a tree just in time, so that when the swinging beam of Auguste’s flashlight comes into focus from over the hill, the only thing he can see in the night is his brother, standing alone beneath the disturbed trap. Laurent knows that the smile on his face isn’t convincing right away, so he fixes it rapidly, before his brother can make note and start prying.

“What triggered the trap?” Auguste asks, stopping just far enough that he won’t be able to see Damen unless he walks around the clearing to the other side. Laurent can’t afford to spare him any glances, but he can imagine Damen must look almost as scared as Laurent is feeling, his heart like a bird trapped in a cage too small. They’re not getting caught, though. Not tonight, not if Laurent can help it – and he can.

“Oh, just a rabbit. I cut it loose and it ran off.” He shrugs, coming up with an excuse that is less of an excuse, and more of a common occurrence out in these woods. Plenty of wildlife wander into the traps they set for the deadlier predators. It should hold.

Or so Laurent hopes, swallowing harshly as the pregnant pause lingers in the air.

Then Auguste chuckles, the swoop of Laurent’s stomach weighty with relief, his brother shining his light into the canopy of the tree for a second before grinning kindly at Laurent.

“Well, at least you spared it.” He teases with a wink, as if Laurent would have done anything but, giving a jerk of his head back the way he came. “Now come on. Dad is ready to go home.”

Laurent nods, hesitating for only a breath when Auguste turns his back and starts leading the way. Laurent glances at Damen, the tension draining from his body, and Damen looks less scared than he had a few minutes ago.

Damen blows Laurent a goodbye kiss, and it’s all he needs to know that Damen is completely fine. A close call, but not the end of the world.

Laurent rolls his eyes, stupidly fond, and sets off after his brother with a very small wave to the werewolf, tuning in to what Auguste is saying about a waste of a hunt since it seems like all the wolves have run off, tails tucked between their legs, to god only knows where.

(Later, as Laurent is getting ready for bed, he presses his fingers over the bruise Damen left – and then to each individual bite mark, nasty red around the punctures, all of them, and _they’re_ going to bruise, too. A shock of heat rocks his body imperceptibly forward, hair dangling over the angles of his face as he heaves a breath, looking at the patchwork of his skin in the mirror, grinning madly from ear to ear.

He’ll have to request even _more_ the next time he sees Damen.)

**Author's Note:**

> i may come back to this au sometime soon! i have plans (tm). in the meantime, follow me on [tweeter.](https://twitter.com/occultened)


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